


Lace

by RedDelirium23



Category: Naruto
Genre: Bullying, Crossdressing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 18:14:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14407722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedDelirium23/pseuds/RedDelirium23
Summary: Sasuke's secret spills out and is used against him. Itachi helps him arm himself and wear it proudly, promising to do the same.





	Lace

Two more classes to go. He could make it.

That’s what he kept telling himself as he walked quickly down the bright hallway. He ignored the faces around him, as always, tuning the voices to a dull thrum.

He turned the dial on his locker, fingers spinning the combination automatically. The locker squeaked as it fell open.

_Faggot._

The word was scrawled in red ink across the inside of the locker door. Papers scattered across the floor before he could catch them. Dread crept up his spine, choking him as he bent down to pick up one of the photos, aware of others bending down to do the same.

He could hear the whispers, laughter, faces turning to look at him. His throat was dry, and he felt too warm. He gripped the paper in his sweaty, trembling hand.

His own face stared back up at him, frozen in the black-and-white print. The boy in the photo was grimacing, twisting around to look at the camera. The others had him pressed against the wall, pants pulled down to show the lacy undergarments. The word faggot was printed above it.

It had been just for a moment, before he had pushed them back. But they had still managed to get that brief moment preserved forever on camera. Now it followed him, turning every day into hell.

His head was pounding, the noises around him mixing together into a roar – laughter, whispers, the vicious words. His face was burning and he looked for an escape, rushing down the hall to the exit, still gripping the paper in his fist. Some of them shoved into him, making him stumble, but he kept moving until the heavy doors pushed open and the noise fell away.

His body moved automatically, following the familiar path. Away from the school, he felt like he could breathe again. But the ache in his chest didn’t go away. He would have to face them all again tomorrow.

There were no cars in the driveway. Good. His parents were still at work, his brother at school. He didn’t want to come up with a lie about why he was home early.

He stepped into the small, quiet house, heading up the steps into his room. The only part of the house that felt like home. He closed the door to his haven, dropping his bag onto the ground and sinking onto the bed. He listened to the ticking clock for a while, willing away the echoes of malicious laughter as he looked at the picture.

He glanced toward the closet, then the clock – he still had at least an hour before anyone would be home. Time enough for escape.

He turned on some music then stripped as he walked to the closet. He paused by the full-length mirror as he removed his pants, pale skin coming into view as the denim and his black briefs slid down his ass.

He pulled out the box in the back of his closet, hands running over the silk and lace treasures. He decided on red. He felt red today.

The music thrummed as he slipped on the tiny red thong, intricate lace a stark contrast against his pale skin. It had a satin ribbon in the back, and he revelled in the softness of it.

Next he chose a pair of black stockings, topped with more lace to make him beautiful. He pulled them onto his legs up to his thighs, watching his reflection in the mirror. The sheer curtain was drawn, letting sunlight filter diffusely into the room and make his skin glow.

He turned on the computer screen, logging in and navigating to the chat room. Several requests popped up instantly, and he checked to make sure the webcam was positioned so his face wasn’t visible before opening a live stream.

He rocked his hips teasingly, letting the words of praise on the screen soothe the ache in his chest. Then he turned around, watching the corresponding image on the screen, showcasing the red and black lace against the curve of his round ass and slender thighs. Lines of text appeared in the corner as the anonymous viewers asked for more. He grabbed the creamy flesh of his ass, lifting and squeezing and watching it bounce.

He bent over, moving the thin fabric aside, toying with the tight puckered ring of muscle. He wondered what it would feel like to have a hard, dripping cock pressed against him instead of his own fingers.

He straightened up abruptly when he heard the front door close, panic rooting him to the spot.

“Sasuke?” His brother’s voice called out from downstairs, and he sprang into motion. He closed the webpage, quickly pulled his jeans on, then grabbed the box and shoved it back into the closet.

As his fingers brushed against the smooth silk in the box, the emotions were suddenly too much to handle. The torment had been wearing on him for weeks, compounding the months of hiding and confusion. Why did this happen to him? Why was he like this? Why did he have to hide?

There was a gentle knock on the door. “Sasuke? Why are you home early? Is everything ok?”

“Just feeling sick.” He probably could have convinced him if his voice didn’t hitch, betraying him. He froze, holding his breath. Maybe he hadn’t heard?

But then the door handle turned, the door opened, the floor creaked slightly as his brother walked over to the speakers and turned off the music. Sasuke stayed kneeling by the closet, quickly wiping away the traitorous tears, pretending to organize his closet.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” There was a pause and a rustling noise. His brother’s voice was quiet, “Did something happen at school?”

“No, just feeling sick.” His voice was level now, breathing calm. But his hands shook as he shifted the clothing around in the closet. His brother’s hands on his shoulders stopped him, trying to turn him to face him, but Sasuke shrugged him away. He didn’t dare look at him with his eyes swollen and face red from tears.

“Look at me.” Itachi crouched next to him, gripping his chin and forcing his head up to meet his gaze. Sasuke quickly jerked away, but not quickly enough. His brother’s sharp, dark eyes took in the wet lashes, flushed face, and puffy eyes.

“What happened, Otouto?” The affectionate childhood name opened the floodgate of emotions again. What would his brother think of him if he knew? What did he think of him right now, a pathetic snivelling mess? His shoulders shook as his vision blurred with tears again.

To his surprise, Itachi pulled him close, running a hand soothingly through his hair and shushing him. His tears left a wet stain on his brother’s shirt, and eventually the sobs lessened, the tears spent. He listened to his brother’s steady heartbeat as his breathing evened.

“Tell me what happened, Sasuke.”

But the boy just shook his head, “It’s nothing.”

He felt Itachi’s chest rise and fall as he sighed. “Why won’t you talk to me? You used to tell me everything.”

“I already told you, it’s nothing.”

“Does it have something to do with the picture on your bed?”

Sasuke froze, eyes widening as he realized the incriminating picture was still sitting on his bed. His brother had seen it. How could this be happening?

He jerked away, looking at Itachi in horror. Now everyone would know. His parents – _oh god_ , if their father found out –

“Please,” he choked out, “Please, you can’t tell –”

Itachi’s finger on his lips silenced him. “Shh … calm down. You’re not thinking straight. Breathe.”

“But – I’m a freak.”

“Don’t say such things.” Itachi pulled Sasuke up off the ground, leading him to sit on the bed. As he sat next to him he picked up the picture. “How long has this been going on?”

“About three months.”

“ _What?_ Have you told anyone?”

“No.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I … I didn’t want you to hate me too.”

“Foolish Otouto,” Itachi sighed. “I could never hate you.” He leaned forward and kissed Sasuke’s forehead. “Don’t let them get to you. I’ll go talk to your teachers –”

“No! You can’t!”

“Sasuke …”

“I don’t want anyone else to find out!”

“You can’t hide who you are forever.”

“I just want to be normal, like you. Not a freak.”

Itachi looked at the photo again, face darkening as he read the hateful word.

“I think it looks good on you.”

Sasuke looked in disbelief at his brother.

“Will you show me?” There was a teasing smile on his face as he watched Sasuke’s face turn red. And a strange look in his eyes.

“What – what do you mean?”

“Show me your secret, and I’ll show you mine. And promise not to hide who you are anymore, and I won’t either. We’ll face our parents together.” He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against his brother’s. “We’ll face the world together. I don’t want you to be in pain.”

“What … do you have to hide?” His brother was the perfect son, irreproachable.

Itachi abruptly got up and left the room, returning a moment later and closing the door behind him.

He shook the bottle of nail paint before uncapping it and meticulously painting the nails on his left hand. Once finished he inspected them then gently blew on them as they dried. “I think it looks good, don’t you?”

Sasuke could only look on in amazement. His brother did such things?

“Will you do my other hand?”

Gulping nervously, Sasuke obliged. His hands were shaking as he brought the brush to his brother’s slender fingers, causing the purple paint to smear on his skin. But Itachi didn’t seem to mind, smiling as he looked down at his hands.

“Will you show me your secrets, Otouto?”

He wasn’t serious, was he? This was his _brother_. But Itachi just patiently waited.

Hands trembling, Sasuke stood and removed his jeans, facing his brother. Itachi watched, head tilted to the side, then got up and stood in front of the nervous boy.

“My turn. Let me show you my secret.”

“What? But you already –”

All thought processes stopped as Itachi leaned forward and pressed his lips to Sasuke’s, ceasing all higher mental functions in the boy. When he finally pulled back his pupils were dilated and breathing shallow. His brother circled around behind him and knelt down, and Sasuke flinched when he felt his hands on his hips. He felt the press of soft lips on his ass, his brother’s warm breath as he whispered, “Beautiful.”

Itachi stood, painted hands running up the boy’s trembling body. “You’re beautiful.” He could feel his brother’s erection behind him, and – _god help him_ – it was turning him on.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway drew their attention. Itachi kissed Sasuke’s neck then pulled away. “Get dressed, Otouto. It’s time to go talk to our parents.” He took Sasuke’s hand in his, looking down smiling at their intertwined fingers and his sloppily painted nails.

Sasuke was surprised the neighbours didn’t call the police that evening, with the amount of screaming coming from their house.

The house shook as their father slammed the door, leaving for the bar. _Faggots_.

Their mother barricaded herself in her room, sobbing. _Freaks_.

But for the first time in months Sasuke didn’t feel alone anymore. His brother held him close, like when they were little. _Let me show you how beautiful you are_.

And when he walked into school the next day, heels clicking on the tiled floor, his head was held high. His lacy thigh-high stockings and short skirt were a shield against the open-mouthed stares and stunned silence, the ache in his back a reminder that he didn’t have to hide anymore.


End file.
